The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't - Donna Augustine Page 0,87
above my head. I didn’t need the reminder, even a silent one, that it was barely three and she was sputtering out. Not to mention that my plan had a better chance of going over well if she were loaded up with chocolate.
“Of course not. Go rest if you need to,” I said, trying to hide the fact that she was messing up my schedule to save her ass.
“Thanks.” She nodded, her lids drooping before she stood. She walked across the office as if she’d aged fifty years in the past week.
I went back to sorting requests but had to reread the one in my hand three times, and it still didn’t register. I threw it on the pile and went in the back to get tea.
Musso followed me in a few minutes later, getting a cup himself.
He took a sip of his tea, watching me over the rim. “I might be the oldest one in this office, but I don’t hold with all the old ways.”
I waited to see where this was going. It might’ve been the longest sentence Musso had ever spoken to me.
“She’s not going to be in this world much longer, one way or another. You’re her friend. If you have a plan, you should talk to her. If you’re going to try to help her, you don’t have much time left.”
Musso was a perfect example of never knowing where your allies might come from. “It’s not that easy when she doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Then you find a different way to do the talking.”
I nodded, flopping down on the couch. “I just…” I shook my head. “I’m scared.”
“If you’re not terrified from time to time, you’re not living life, kid. Good luck. Fight the good fight.”
“Thanks, Musso.”
He took his tea and walked out of the room.
He was right. I should’ve been taking on this fight as soon as I saw something wrong. I shouldn’t have let this go on so long, but I hadn’t wanted to see it. When I woke up in the morning, I liked having tea with someone who didn’t care how much magic I had. Who’d liked me even when I was a Whimsy witch. When I went to sleep, I liked knowing there was a person in the room over if I woke up freaked out about something. I hadn’t had that since I was a kid, and not even then.
When I’d woken with a bad dream as a child and gone to my mother, it had always turned into a full-out event that was worse. She’d tell me it was a premonition. No one wanted to think their nightmares were what was to come. I’d end up hiding under blankets in my closet afterward. But Rabbit couldn’t afford my selfishness.
There was one way I could disguise this that she might buy. I just hoped she’d take the bait.
I put my tea down and walked out of the back room, but instead of returning to work, I went to the stairs, hoping I’d catch her before she was out cold. Musso gave me a nod of approval. As silly as it was, that nod stiffened my resolve more. I’d never known what having a father was like, but Musso would’ve been a good one. He knew what was right and wasn’t scared to tell you.
I walked up the steps and knocked softly on her door. “Rabbit?”
“Come in. Everything okay?” She was lying in bed, eyes half-closed, as if I’d woken her up.
I sat down on the end of her bed. The irony wasn’t lost on me that the dying girl wanted to make sure I was doing well. It galvanized my heart to do what was right, no matter how it might sting.
I flopped back on the bed, letting out a sigh that could’ve woken the dead. “Yeah, I’m a little homesick is all.”
“I’m sorry.”
I bit my lower lip, like she often did when she was in a bad way, and made sure she saw it. I’d bite right through it and bleed out if I had to.
“The worst part is Loris. I told you about her. She owned the shop I worked at?” I’d told her many times, thankfully, and I was going to use it now.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I know she’s having a hard time. I asked Hawk to stop in there for me, and she’s still alone in that shop.” And if Loris wasn’t, someone was going to have to hire a ghost to scare them off.